


Deity Disturbances

by Storm_Rain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby Deals With Idjits, Castiel Loves Burgers, Castiel and Bees, Gabriel (Supernatural) is Loki, M/M, Mild Language, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Protective Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 23:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2751125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storm_Rain/pseuds/Storm_Rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The baby shower finally commences—though not without some hiccups, as things tend to happen around the Winchesters and company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deity Disturbances

**Author's Note:**

> I say I’m updating more frequently, but I really still making you guys wait a long time...apologies for that! I’ve tried to balance out Sabriel and Destiel having equal screen time.  
> I have no excuses, only that it's been a long year...almost two years. My writing juices have been flowing much better lately :D  
> Also, no beta, so if I mixed up tenses or something similar, please let me know!

“I’ve got the food!” Dean announces, carrying a large tray of cheese and crackers and salami and other things Sam’s positive even he can’t pronounce. But with the wide audience of unique guests that they’re catering to, it’s no surprise. “Gotta love Sam’s Club,” his brother grins at the slight pun he’s made, setting down his boon on the kitchen table.

  
“I’m just glad Gabe’s mojo seems to be holding us over for now,” Sam says mildly, helping him unload the various other foodstuffs that Sam’s Club has yielded for them. “Most of the money doesn’t turn into Monopoly money anymore—”

  
“You wound me, dear mate of mine!” Gabriel makes his entrance from the back door, a hand clasped over his heart in an over dramatic display of man pain. His hands are free from the burden that it could place on his stomach that now hangs heavy in front of him. “That was one time—”

  
“Three times.”

  
“Three times, so what? You’re damn lucky that it didn’t turn into a rubber chicken or something, the way my Grace has been acting,” Gabe snarks, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together pointedly. “As funny as Deano thinks Whoopie Cushions are popping up instead of couch cushions, when the seats in the Impala turn into them you won’t be laughing.”

  
“You be damn careful with Baby,” Dean growls, hefting the cases of beer inside next. He stuffs them in the refrigerator with the small space they have left now; Gabe’s tried to make it slightly bigger, and he’s succeeded, more or less. Still, it’s a pretty tight squeeze, and Dean has to kick the door to make it stay closed. Gabe has to hope that he’s going to be just as protective of his actual baby as that damn car.

  
“Well, that’s it for now. But we’re gonna have to have way more food on hand—who did you say you invited, Gabriel?”

  
The archangel examines his nails casually, trying to be aloof.

“Okay, for the record, most of them invited themselves, and you want to be on good terms with these guys right now,” he says. “I couldn’t fend off Kali, unfortunately, and obviously Crowley is coming to get his snuggle on with Bobby—” The brothers gag, Castiel looks uncomfortable, and they’re all glad that the older hunter isn’t in the near vicinity. “—Some other minor gods and goddesses are coming, like Hermes, Aphrodite, Dionysus (the dude throws the best parties, it’ll be awesome), Apollo, Shiva, Nut, and oooh! My son is coming, Sleipnir!” The trickster beams.

  
Sam rubs the back of his neck. They still haven’t talked about the whole “you’re a stepfather” thing yet, and he really thinks they’re going to have to do that soon.

  
“Eight legs and all?” he tries to joke weakly. Gabe ignores how uncomfortable he is for now and nods.

  
“Yep! I’m sure he’ll trot in and show them all off.” He smiles, rocking back on his heels. “It’s a shame that Fenrir, Jormungandr and Hel are busy right now, but maybe they can come meet their little sis or bro another time.” He still hasn’t told Sam that there are two babies, not one. He wonders how long he can keep up that charade until it slips out...or his guilt about keeping it from Sam overwhelms him.

  
Sam nods and looks out the door where the aforementioned Bobby is hauling the last of the food they can fit into the kitchen inside.

  
“You idjits have some damn hungry guests on that list,” he puffs, setting down the assortment of snacks and unsurprisingly, more beer. Being drunk seems like the safest bet at this point.  
  


“They’re gods, Bobby. We should be glad we found things they like to eat at Walmart and didn’t have to find some sacrificial goats to slaughter,” Dean points out. Gabriel looks a bit offended at the stereotype, but has to admit that some of his friend’s tastes run a bit...strange. The pig’s feet are weird enough.

  
“Thanks for all of this, Bobby,” Sam adds gratefully. “We couldn’t have managed all of this shopping and preparation without you.”

  
“No, you couldn’t have,” Bobby agrees, and that’s that. They spend the rest of the day getting everything else set up, from the streamers and balloons that Gabe has insisted on having, to the CONGRATULATIONS banner that Cas has said would add more cheer to the event once he’d seen it at the store.

  
Cas has been on bed rest for a while, the pregnancy taking a harder toll on him as time goes by. It’s as if their situations have been switched; Gabriel is breezing by with little to no morning sickness while Cas is in the bathroom every morning and experiencing aches and pains all over. They’re all worried that he wasn’t going to be able to make it to the baby shower, but he’s told them that he’ll make it come heaven or hell, and for such a remark to come from this angel, well, it gives them some hope.

\-----------

This hope is crushed the morning of the shower. Cas has been in the bathroom since five in the morning, puking up everything from last night and perhaps the entire day before. He tries to put on a brave face, lifting said pale face up from the toilet and making a few efforts at speech, “Fine—‘m fine—” and then lowering it back to the porcelain god again.

  
“You are not fine, Cas, and stop acting like you are. Stay there and we’ll get some Pepto Bismol in you,” Dean orders, and the weak gurgling he hears from the toilet is what he takes as a yes. The angel regards the pink liquid with trepidation, but it has perked him up and with a little creative concealer application (“Dean, why do you know how to do this?” “Shaddup, Sam.”), he looks almost as good as new.

  
While Cas lectures Sam on the merits of makeup throughout human history, Dean and Gabe put up the last of the decorations and check on the food again. That’s when they see the next problem they’re going to have.

  
Sleipnir has arrived early, much to Sam’s chagrin (they had to talk about the fact that he had step-nephews and nieces!), and has delved into the food, munching away happily for fifteen minutes before they’d found him and managed to drag him away. The horse looks suitably chastised, and trots away to sulk. Half of the food is gone thanks to the eight-legged equine, and the guests will be here in half an hour.

  
“We’re screwed,” Dean says miserably, and all Sam can do is nod in agreement. So fucking screwed (and not in the good way, as Gabe would put it).

\------

Gabe had summoned up the last of his power for the day to conjure up a semblance of what the set-up had been the day before. He had been exhausted afterwards, and only the one time exception on the part of a Red Bull had gotten him up to his chirpy self again. He hadn’t been very apologetic about Sleipnir (“He’s a growing horse, guys! He’s the baby of his siblings!”), but had reprimanded him just a little—until Sam had seen him slip the god an apple. So much for that.

  
They get things cleaned up the best they can, and just in time; the first slew of gods arrive, and of course not through the front door. Some appear randomly in the kitchen and living room and one in the bathroom upstairs, for some reason. Soon the place is packed full and Sam is glad that Gabriel had made sure to choose his guests carefully, known who was feuding with who. Maybe the archangel does know something about political correctness.

  
It’s not just the gods that are milling about, however: following one are a horde of bees that don’t seem to bother anyone beyond following the nature gods like Dionysus around as if hoping to pollinate something (and, of course, attempting to dip into anything sweet, but most gods like Nemesis and Kali incinerate them on the spot in annoyance or what appears to be boredom).

  
Speaking of Kali, she and Gabriel have exchanged some looks, but haven’t spoken yet, and every time Sam looks over, the archangel makes sure not to be looking at her. It’s awkward and the two of them end up shifting to other conversations without talking, though Sam does keep an eye on his angel in case any of the gods try something. This dissolves quickly as he’s drawn into conversation with so many of the gods he’s read about and idolized for so long.

  
In no time he’s talking excitedly with Thoth, who has a notepad in his hand and is writing down what look like hieroglyphs and peeling them off of the paper to talk about their meanings, making for an excited hunter. Dean finds himself in conversation with Artemis and Apollo about hunting, and is given a talking to about not using the bow and arrow again. This devolves into bickering between brother and sister and weapons were drawn, so Dean gets himself out of there pretty quickly.

  
Bobby looks discomfited for the most part, although he does perk up a little bit when Dionysus offers him some of his own wine, and he’s suspiciously red and tipsy the rest of the party, mumbling about Crowley, who'd never showed up. Castiel is talking with Ah Muzencab, eyes lit up and face flushed with the most life he’s shown since Dean introduced him to Red Robin burgers. He keeps darting his eyes around to the bees that hover around the god.

  
Gabriel…well. Many of the gods had not taken too kindly to the deceit at the former “Loki’s” hands. The god of wine (Bacchus, not Dionysus) was one of them. The archangel smiles weakly and backs up, grunting as he hits the wall. He has nowhere left to go.

  
“Bacchus, good friend, old buddy and pal—”

  
“Cut the crap, Loki! If you weren’t knocked up with that human’s spawn, you’d be flat on your back right now begging for—”

  
“Excuse me,” Sam cuts in, teeth bared. Dean’s eyes widen a margin; apparently being a father-to-be is bringing out some of Sam’s less seen aggression. That god doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into. People forget how large Sam is, with his hunching over and mild-mannerisms as he usually tries not to make himself seem threatening. When he puffs himself up like this (not unlike a bird, or an angel), he’s like a goddamn mountain.

  
The god realizes this; but at the same time recognizes that he’s human, and sneers at him.

  
“And you. You must be Sam Winchester, the one who knocked up this slutty god—”

  
BAM! Sam’s fist meets the god’s face, and the sound of breaking bone on both parts was heard. Gods—well, demigods—weren’t as durable as angels, but they were still harder to hit than regular human beings. Still, with Sam’s righteous fury, he’d managed to make a dent in Bacchus’s face, nose bleeding freely and looking broken, twisted to one side. Curses were heard from both parties, and Dean cursed, running over to check on his brother.

  
“I’m fine Dean, just broke a few knuckles, nothing serious.” Sam insists, making a face as he’s fussed over; he still isn’t used to Dean being like this around him since they were kids. He holds up a hand when the angels make to motion with their hands. “Do not even think about snapping, they’ll heal normally. Or no cake for either of you.”

  
“Cake is not pie,” Dean mutters, but helps Sam up and checks him over.

  
The rest of the afternoon goes well, to everyone’s surprise. The rest of the gods and assorted guests are much more amicable once Loki’s mate has proved himself formidable, and show him and Dean some measure of respect above that from before. Naturally, there are still a few that turn up their noses in disdain, like Quetzalcoatl and Nemesis and Acan, but by the time everyone has left and all that remains are a few lingering bees drunk on wine and sweets and still the eight-legged horse munching away, things have settled down considerably.

  
“I think we can count that as a success,” Dean drawls, sipping on a glass of something or other. It’s probably alcoholic, the angels think jealously, and take a drink of their Shirley Temples. Gabe’s has four toothpicks with three cherries each, but even that doesn’t stop him from gazing longingly at Sam’s beer.

  
“Idjits,” snores Bobby from the couch, sprawled out and clearly dreaming. Sam chuckles and shakes his head.

  
“What he said.”

**TBC**

 

 


End file.
